Our Family Snapshots
by DolbyDigital
Summary: 'When everything else goes to hell, the people who stand by you without flinching - they are your family.' Jim Butcher. A collection of one-shots all centered around the Weasley family. All individual characters and warnings are inside.
1. Broken Frames - VictoireFred

Broken Frames - Victoire/Fred

Set in September 2012.

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><p>Uncle Fred had always been her favourite. Not because she felt that they were alike in any way – they were most definitely not – or because she'd been riveted to the stories they'd all been subjected to – stories about bravery and heroes; stories where the Gryffindors always came out on top. It had a lot to do with the day that he'd died; her birthday.<p>

It was probably pretty morbid, actually, to think like that. Well, she didn't care. Her birthdays had always had an undertone of despair to them – so many had died, people were still mourning. Even fourteen years later. Her family had tried, of course, to make her birthday about her rather than those that were no longer with them, but they'd all lost someone. The main appeal to her Uncle Fred, she supposed, was that he'd died laughing. On her birthday.

She talked to him sometimes. Well, she talked to an old picture that she'd found underneath a wonky floorboard in Uncle Fred and Uncle George's old bedroom in the Burrow. It was the only one she'd ever seen with just one of the twins, but she couldn't really tell them apart. She'd shown her Uncle George as soon as she'd found it. She'd thought it was him, but the sad smile on his face told her otherwise. He'd agreed to let her keep it as soon as she'd asked – he had plenty, he'd told her.

The frame had been replaced several times over the years. When she first started Hogwarts she hadn't thought to wrap it up before shoving it into her trunk and the glass had shattered, coating the contents of her trunk in dangerous shards; that mistake had resulted in a trip to the hospital wing, and one of the older students had bought her a new frame on the first Hogsmeade weekend because she'd cried. She'd never found out who it was, though.

Part way through her first year she'd taken to carrying it around in her bag. She hadn't made any friends since starting school – she hadn't really tried, because Teddy had said that he would be her friend until she got some of her own and she didn't want that to end. When he'd realised what she was doing he'd said he couldn't be her friend any more. But Uncle Fred hadn't ever left her. He was always laughing and smiling and waving at her. And she knew it was just her because she'd left him on her bedside table once and when she'd gone back into her dorm room she'd caught him making rude gestures at some of the other girls in her year – though she'd only found out that they were rude later when she'd repeated them in front of her mother and been sent to bed without any dinner. Her dad had thought it was hilarious. He'd brought her dinner up later.

But once – when he was in her bag – she'd tripped and fallen, everything breakable in her bag doing just that – ink bottles; quills; sweets; Uncle Fred. She'd immediately gone to write a letter to her Uncle George, tears staining the parchment. She wasn't so bothered about the frame – it was easily replaceable, after all – but there was a small tear in the corner of the photograph and she couldn't believe that she'd done that to her Uncle Fred. She didn't stop crying for three days. And then she'd gotten a reply from her Uncle, telling her to take the photo to a teacher or an older student – telling her that they could _fix_ it – and he'd even given her a new frame.

She'd tried to be more careful after that – always ensuring that she knew where Uncle Fred was; that he wasn't anywhere he could get easily broken – but in the end it hadn't really mattered. She'd been sleeping with him on the bed next to her – she'd been having awful nightmares the first summer back from Hogwarts, and she missed being young enough that it was okay to crawl into her parents' bed. Her sister had come in to wake her up – she couldn't remember why, anymore, but it was probably another family gathering – and the first thing she'd seen had been Uncle Fred.

She'd grabbed the photo and laughed, standing on the bed and holding it high above her head – and wasn't it unfair that there was only a year between them and her sister had already been taller than her. And she wasn't even short! But that one year didn't help her in retrieving the photo; instead her sister had started jumping and laughing harder and when Victoire had tackled her she'd dropped the photo and it had gone flying across the room to land with a sickening crack against the opposite wall.

Dom had frozen for half a second – long enough for her to comprehend what had happened – and then run out of the room, not having expected her older sister to start openly sobbing. Her parents had come in soon after her exit, both looking panicked and – presumably – looking for the injury she had sustained to cause such a reaction.

Her dad had figured it out first, spotting the frame lying face down across the room. He'd fixed the photo – another minor tear – but he'd told her that they would need to get a new frame – they wouldn't be able to find all the pieces of glass, he had explained, and he hadn't wanted to use a spell to find them because that would mean fragments of glass flying through the air; and she _knew _all this, it wasn't the first time that Uncle Fred's frame had been broken. Her dad had taken her to buy a new frame later that day; she got to choose it herself, and pay the lady at the counter with her own pocket money – her dad had said he would pay, but she'd wanted to buy Uncle Fred a new frame herself; it was the best apology she could give him.

After that, she'd taken to wrapping him in the best muggle invention she had ever seen – bubble wrap. The best thing about it was that it kept her Uncle Fred safe, but it was also fun to pop – though she couldn't pop Uncle Fred's bubble wrap because that was his and he needed it.

She stood on the platform, ready to start her second year at Hogwarts, and said good-bye to her parents. Uncle Fred was in her bag, safely covered in his bubble wrap, and she was going to take much better care of him this year.


	2. Starry Night - LucyVictoire

Starry Night - Lucy/Victoire

Warning for mild swearing.

Set during the summer of 2017.

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><p>Another family celebration. Teddy had just graduated; she loved him – she did – but there were only so many times that she could bear to hear how much she'd grown since they'd last gotten together – she hadn't – or how she was exactly like her father – she wasn't – and they did this at every opportunity they could get. She was bored.<p>

They'd all moved indoors when it had gotten so dark that they couldn't see anything without the aid of the floating fairy lights someone had charmed to circle around the more populated areas of the garden, and the warmth of the summer day had left with the departure of the sun. It was crowded in the Burrow – too crowded; barely enough room for the original occupants of the house, let alone the abundance of grandchildren and almost-relatives and a few of Teddy's friends that they'd managed to cram in.

People were sitting in a wonky circle of miss-matched chairs and boxes – and a few people were sitting on the coffee table – but most had resorted to finding a spot on the floor and relying on those seated around the table – those who had gotten in first – to pass them drinks. She'd sat with them at first, but her Aunt's legs had been digging uncomfortably into her back and she had a cousin sitting on each foot – she didn't want to sit cross-legged, damnit, and it wasn't that hard to avoid a person's feet, even in the limited seating area.

After managing to extract herself from the midst of her family – with much complaining from the people she was disturbing and possibly accidentally stepping on – and fighting off the pins-and-needles in her legs, she made it into the relative peace of the kitchen. She leant against the open back door – cold drink in hand – and watched as her family continued to talk about mundane things that none of them would remember properly the next day.

It was a little lonely, but at least she could breathe properly over here without the suffocating warmth of too many people to close together. The gentle breeze made her shiver, cooling her sweat and bringing up goose-bumps along her bare arms and legs, but she'd always preferred the cold. And the night sky was beautiful.

They were far enough away from anywhere overly populated that the stars were clearly visible, shining brightly in the mid-summer night, though barely illuminating the darkness of the garden and surrounding hills. If it had been brighter she might have seen the lone silhouette of a person sooner.

Squinting into the darkness, she thought she could make out one of her cousins – probably female – sitting at the end of the garden, knees drawn up to her chest and the small spark of light from a cigarette that she knew Grandma would be angry about as it moved slowly away from her mouth with a steady exhale of smoke.

Victoire? She didn't think Victoire smoked, but she could see Molly, Dom and Fred inside laughing at something someone – Uncle George, by the looks of it – had said, and she didn't think anyone else looked old enough to pass themselves off as being eighteen. Maybe Roxanne? No; she'd managed to get a seat at the table. And all of Teddy's friends had left hours ago.

So what was Victoire doing smoking in the garden? And – if the way her shoulders were shaking was any indication – it looked like she was crying. She thought maybe she should go over – comfort her cousin, try to find out what was wrong – but what if Victoire didn't want her there? After all, they weren't that close, and she'd probably gone into the garden to be alone. And what if she was wrong? She could barely see her – she wasn't even sure if it _was_ Victoire. For all she knew one of Teddy's friends had hung around a bit longer for a smoke.

But what if she was right?

Hesitantly, she made her way across the garden, being careful not to make a lot of noise – she didn't want anyone coming out to see what they were doing – but to still make enough that she didn't startle her cousin. And – yes – that was definitely Victoire. Long blonde hair that looked like it should be on an advert for shampoo, graceful limbs, soft curves in all the right places, and Victoire was possibly the only person she'd ever met who actually had nice feet. Maybe her mother did, too, but she couldn't ever picture Aunty Fleur walking around in neon flip-flops like her eldest daughter currently was.

She knew Victoire must have heard her approach – she'd been careful about that – but she didn't make any indication that she knew she was there. It left her wondering whether to just sit down next to her, tap her on the shoulder or call her name out to get her attention. In the end, she opted for sitting. She'd never been overly good at talking to people – in fact, she was starting to think that this had been a bad idea – and it was still dark enough that she was worried she might judge the distance wrong and end up hitting her cousin 'round the back of the head.

She waited in uncomfortable silence for a few seconds – maybe even a minute – and was starting to really regret her decision to come out here when Victoire wordlessly held the half-smoked cigarette out to her. She'd never smoked before – and she didn't particularly want to now – but she didn't want to break the silence to decline the offer, so she took it awkwardly between her index and middle fingers.

She hesitated briefly – long enough to feel Victoire's eyes slant towards her – before bringing it to her lips and inhaling cautiously. The smoke filling her lungs made her cough uncontrollably and she nearly dropped the cigarette as she battled to regain control of her breathing.

"Merlin, Luce, you could've said no," Victoire sounded irritated; what right did she have to be irritated? She wasn't the one someone had just attempted to poison. And maybe she was overreacting a little, but still... That was _foul_. Then again, she'd had a similar reaction to tea the first time she'd tried it but it wasn't half bad now. "Give it here. That's my last one."

"Sorry," she muttered, handing over the cigarette, pleased to be rid of it. Her eyes had adjusted somewhat to the darkness, enough for her to see the faint trace of tears still on Victoire's face, but no other evidence that she had been crying at all – no snot or ugly red blotches for Victoire, the girl was part Veela after all. "Why are you out here, anyway?"

"I wanted to be alone." Victoire replied almost instantly, cutting a sharp look at her as she did so. Lucy remained stubbornly quiet. "Look, don't tell anyone about this," she said with a sigh, waving the cigarette slightly to clarify.

"Err... Yeah, okay..."

"It's just too crowded in there, y'know," Vic continued as if she hadn't been momentarily side-tracked. "I guess I needed some fresh air." She tried to stifle a laugh but, judging by the look Victoire gave her, she had been largely unsuccessful. "So what brings you out here?"

"Uh... I saw you?..." She stuttered, "You looked upset and I just wanted to come out and see if you were alright, but if you want me to go then that's fine, too, I wouldn't be offended or anything! It's actually pretty cold out here, but I thought you might like the company and I-"

"Woah, Luce, slow down," Vic said with a laugh, wrapping her arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. "Don't want to hurt yourself."

"Oh, uh... sorry."

"And if you were cold you should have said something," she ignored the apology entirely. "This ain't something where I want you to feel like shit just 'cause I do."

"Really?" she asked before she could stop herself. "Uh... I mean..."

"I know what you meant, Luce. Don't worry about it." She rose to her feet in such a fluid motion that she was instantly jealous of, and dropped what was left of her cigarette in Lucy's forgotten cup.

"Hey! That's-"

"C'mon, Luce, let's go."

"What about-"

"Later. In the attic."


	3. Reconnecting - AlbusRose

Reconnecting - Albus/Rose

Set during the winter of 2017

Written for Round Four of the Quidditch League - must start and end with the same adjective - and I used the prompts Swollen and Ground.

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><p>Warm air greets Albus as he walks into the Great Hall alone – for once without the constant addition of his best friend, one Scorpius Malfoy – and makes his way towards the Hufflepuff table where his fellow housemates are talking and laughing as they eat.<p>

Taking a quick look around before he sits, it's only by chance that he notices his cousin sitting alone at the Gryffindor table, clearly not enjoying the festive cheer with the rest of her housemates. He glances her way every few minutes, but nothing changes – still she sat with her head down, ignoring everyone around her.

"Hey, Al, what're you staring at?" a tall boy with curly blonde hair calls from across the table.

"Oh, er... nothing."

"Really? 'Cause it looks like there must be something awful interesting going on at the Gryffindor table if you need to look over there that much."

"No, it's just –" he begins to explain, but he gets interrupted with the continuous chatter of his fellow first years.

"And where's Malfoy, anyway?"

"Aren't you two always together?"

"Yeah, it's a little weird dude."

"It's that Weasley girl, isn't it?"

"You mean his cousin?"

"What?"

"Could be his brother."

"The Weasley girl's his brother?"

"No. Don't be stupid."

"You're stupid."

"Guys! Shut up! What about his cousin?"

"Slash brother."

"Stop it!"

"Who he was staring at."

"Why would he be staring at his cousin?"

"Why wouldn't he?"

"Because it's weird."

"So?"

"You stare at your cousins a lot, then?"

"No. But I'd stare at his cousin any day."

"Really?"

"Yeah! Have you not seen the Veela girl?"

"She's not a Gryffindor."

"Oh, yeah."

"What about –"

"Guys! Stop!" Albus finally gives up trying to make sense of the conversation happening around him, and pushes himself away from the table. "I'm going over to talk to Rose." And he leaves, head still spinning from the jumbled mass of words that had been thrown around only seconds earlier.

He makes his way over to the curly haired girl sitting alone at the Gryffindor table, and as he draws nearer her swollen eyes and red nose became more apparent.

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><p>He's standing behind her before he's figured out what to say – they weren't as close as they used to be before they'd started Hogwarts and it's been months since they've had a proper conversation – but she speaks before he has the chance.<p>

"Where's Malfoy?" she asks, sounding bitter and hurt and like she's trying to hide it.

"Not here," he says with as much cheerfulness as he can manage, taking the empty seat beside her despite her glare.

"What do you want, Albus?" He suppresses a wince. She's never called him by his full name before.

"Can't I just want to talk to my cousin?"

"Why start now?"

"C'mon, Rosie. Meet me half way here."

"I'm talking to you, aren't I?" It hasn't escaped his attention that she has yet to look up at him, but he decides to ignore that for the time being.

"Okay. What have you been up to?"

"School. We're in a lot of the same classes, in case you'd forgotten."

"Made any new friends?"

"No."

"Bought you're Christmas presents yet?"

"Yes."

"What did you get?"

"Presents."

"That's not what I meant."

"I-"

"I know!" He interrupts, practically bouncing in his seat with excitement. "Meet me in the Entrance Hall in twenty minutes. Dress warm. We're going out."

"Where?" He grins at her, pleased that she's finally looking at him and actually seems interested in the conversation now.

"It's a surprise."

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><p>Twenty minutes later, he's waiting nervously in the Entrance Hall watching nervously as the seconds tick by.<p>

Twenty two minutes. He was starting to think that she might not be coming, after all.

Twenty four. His fingers are beginning to bleed slightly from where he's bitten his nails down too far.

Twenty five. It was a long shot, anyway. He didn't know why he'd been so sure she'd come.

After waiting for half an hour, he finally gives up and straightens up from his position leaning against the hard stone wall.

"Leaving already?" He jumps at the sudden sound of her voice breaking the silence.

"You were late," he attempts to slow his heartbeat down to a normal speed.

"I don't know where you think the Gryffindor Tower is, but it's pretty far away. You know what a tower is, right?"

"Yes, I know what a tower is," he says with false irritation, still too happy that she actually turned up to be annoyed. "C'mon, let's go!"

"Are you gonna tell me where we're going yet?" but she follows him with only a slight roll of her eyes.

"No. You'll see when we get there."

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><p>He can tell the exact moment she figures out where it is that he's taking her. She looks confused for all of ten seconds, before irritation wins over and she can't keep her annoyance silent any longer.<p>

"You're taking me to the Forbidden Forest?" She glares over at him, managing to look outraged and disappointed all at once, but she doesn't break step from him and he counts that as a win.

"Yep," he sounds annoyingly cheerful to himself, so the angry huff and hard shove don't come as much of a surprise.

"It's called the Forbidden Forest for a reason."

"You sound like your mum."

"I do not!"

"Yeah. You do," he laughs, pulling her past the first line of trees. "We're not even going that far," he says as he pulls her to a stop in a small clearing.

They're not very far into the forest – they can still see Hogwarts through the tree-line – but it feels a lot more remote than it is. Like they're the only two people a world of glittering snow that covers the ground and weighs heavily on the limbs of trees.

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><p>They end up staying out for hours; talking, laughing, playing in the snow. It was like the last few months had never happened. And Albus hopes that it stays that way as Rose falls on top of him, heavy and safe and warm.<p> 


	4. Chapter 3

Growing apart doesn't change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangles.

- Ally Condie

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><p>They'd been planning this for months; years, even. Making lists and arrangements and ensuring that even the finest detail was accounted for. This had been something that they'd wanted to do since they were children. Sometimes they had stayed up all night planning it – checklists written in brightly coloured crayon and almost illegible handwriting; sheets of paper with fading pencilled words; parchment with ink carefully written but smudged with over-eager fingers. <em>What we want to do when we grow up:<em>

And only one thing ever stayed the same; always in the number one spot.

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><p>She stepped through the green flames, feeling the familiar rush of dizziness that travelling by Floo always brought about. '<em>Maybe I should have gotten that Portkey, after all'<em>, she thought as she stepped out of the fireplace unsteadily. She used the wall to brace herself as she waited for the vertigo to abate, head bowed and eyes closed, trying to ignore the ringing in her ears.

"Lucy!" was shouted loud enough to cause several customers at the far end of the shop to glare in their direction, the hand grabbing her arm startling her, and she would have lost her balance completely if the person hadn't also thought to steady her. Slowly, she turned around, the last vestiges of dizziness leaving her.

"Molly! Hey! I thought you'd probably be late," a grin accompanying her words.

"Late? Me? Well, yeah... okay. But not for this!" The answering grin was just as bright, though maybe a little manic.

"That's good to hear. How long have you been here, anyway?" She nodded at the take-out coffee cup in her sisters hand, the cardboard sleeve peeled back slightly as if she'd been picking at it nervously whilst she waited.

"Oh, not long," her voice held a false sense of casualness as she led her sister to the door. "This is only my third cup," she continued in the same tone. "You're buying the next one," she added cheerfully, ignoring her sister's disbelieving stare.

Molly rushed them both out of the small shop, and into the narrow street. She smiled as an old couple walking their dog bid them a good morning, easily falling into the old routine of listening to Molly happily talking to people while she stood back and watched even though it had been years since she'd been that cripplingly shy.

They walked through the mostly quiet streets of the small town in a comfortable silence after that; the excitement spreading between them so strong she could almost taste it. It felt good to just _exist_ with her sister after such a long time with so little contact. '_We should try to do this more often,_' she thought, '_maybe we could take a look at the Muggle part of the town, too._'

She was about to voice the thought aloud to her sister when they reached the stadium. She could remember her mother explaining to her once how Muggles would just see an open field and would feel the need to stay away from it.

The pitch was amazing; half decked out in an orange so bright that she couldn't see it _not_ putting off the players, and the other half decorated with the colours of the Falcons. There was already a large crowd gathered; people seated or wandering around and all making a lot of noise. She absolutely loved it.

They joined their fellow fans in the eye-watering section of the stands, their own brightly coloured t-shirts and scarves on proud display.

"This is awesome!" Molly yelled in her ear, still barely managing to be heard over the noise of the crowds. "It's gotta be better than the World Cup finals!" She couldn't see her sister's grin, but it was obvious in her voice.

"That's only because the Canons would never make it," she laughed, stumbling slightly as she turned to shout to her sister and missed the next step. "But we love them anyway."

"They wouldn't be the Canons if they didn't suck at Quidditch!"

"Don't tell that to Uncle Ron. He's still under the impression that they're actually good."

They finally managed to find two empty seats together, and awkwardly shuffled their way past the people already seated to get to the middle of the row. Slightly breathless – and after many apologies – they made it to the seats. They were right in the middle of the stands amongst some of the loudest fans she'd ever heard.

Grinning at her sister, Lucy leant over and yelled –

"We should do this again!"

"Yeah! Definitely! But next time, you're paying."

"I paid for my ticket!" Lucy yelled back, slightly defensively. Molly just shook her head and waved the empty coffee cup in her face, accidentally popping the lid off and flicking the last dregs of the now cold liquid in an unsuspecting strangers face. "Hey! I didn't have any!"

"Okay. Good," Lucy felt an impending sense of dread. "You can go get snacks, then. Oh! And more coffee," her sister shoved her back the way they had come with a smug grin and a promise to save her seat.

She kept up a constant litany of complaints all the way to and from the concession stand, ignoring the strange looks people were giving her. She doubted she'd ever see any of them again. She only stopped with the complaints when she reached their row and had to navigate the narrow walk-way without dropping the drinks and small mountain of snack food. She didn't want to have to make a second trip.

She had only just sat down when the crowd erupted into thunderous cheers as the players stepped out onto the pitch and she found herself standing once more, clapping and yelling with everyone else.

The cheering didn't die down until the players were preparing to mount their brooms, and she watched eagerly as the game began.


End file.
